


This Is Where I Make My Stand

by lady_of_scarlet



Category: Castle
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-24
Updated: 2011-07-24
Packaged: 2017-10-21 17:17:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/227659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_of_scarlet/pseuds/lady_of_scarlet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The end of the season three finale, if Castle and Beckett's positions were reversed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is Where I Make My Stand

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** Angst, major character death (but not if you don't want to read it that way)  
>  **A/N:** This was [](http://aprilvolition.livejournal.com/profile)[**aprilvolition**](http://aprilvolition.livejournal.com/) 's birthday present (happy birthday again!) from back in June...never got around to posting it. **Major spoilers for the season three finale**.

...

  
The bullet seared as it tore through his ribcage, ripping up his insides, a hundred times worse than he’d ever imagined it could be and oh, he’d imagined it. Rick had moved on instinct, throwing himself between Kate and the tiny red dot of a laser sight, in an attempt to interrupt the bullet on its path to her heart. A second slower, just a moment of hesitation, and he would have been too late.

He didn’t even hear it. Not really. Not like Derrick Storm always heard the resounding blast of a shotgun, or the jarring bang of a pistol. There had only been the faintest trill in the air as a bullet sliced through it, like a gasp or a sigh—barely there. It was fascinating, from a research perspective. Less so, Rick mused, when on the receiving end of the projectile.

He couldn't hear much of anything now, not over the sudden cacophony of terrified voices and panicked screams—his daughter’s included—that had erupted. The rows of wooden chairs had all but collapsed in the frenzy as mourners clamored over them, trying to escape a killer they couldn’t see, with the desperation that came from knowing that the killer could see _them_. And oh god, he didn’t want Alexis to see this.

Rick tried to tilt his head, tried to find her in the commotion, but he barely caught a glimpse of her red hair as she was dragged away—thrashing and screaming, but _safe_. That was all that mattered.

Sunlight flickered brightly through the trees above him as the wind picked up. The sweet scent of freshly cut grass was nearly overwhelming, and Rick couldn’t help thinking that the cemetery was really the perfect place to commit a murder. He only wished he’d thought of it himself. It would have made a great climax to his latest work. To die in a place so intimately entwined with death itself. It was almost poetic. Cliché, but he could work with that.

It didn’t even occur to him that he was on the ground until Kate appeared, leaning over him, lightly silhouetted by the sun overhead.

Rick smiled fondly at her, his muse, immediately wanting to tell her how it all went down, as though she hadn’t been standing right there with him. He’d describe in eloquent detail how the protagonist valiantly sacrificed himself for the woman he loved, bravely facing the threat of imminent death—because that was always worth it in the end, wasn’t it? These were the moments of _genuine_ character development, when the hero is cut wide open so the audience can see what truly lies inside of him. The human beneath the mask.

He wanted to see her try—and fail—to suppress an amused grin and concede that, yes, he was _very_ brave. Maybe even that she loved him for it.

“Rick?” She was breathing hard, her fists tightly clenching the fabric of his shirt like she thought he might bolt at any moment. The idea was preposterous. He wouldn’t run from her. Where would he go?

A cloud passed over, thwarting the blinding rays, and suddenly he could see her clearly.

His smile faded.

Kate was ashen, as though she was the one steadily bleeding out into the lush green grass while contemplating story structure, and not him. She looked stricken, horrified in a way he’d never seen her before. The realization was alarming. Rick thought he had seen almost all of her expressions, and thoroughly imagined those he hadn’t had the pleasure to, but he never expected to look into her eyes and see this...fear.

It couldn’t be that bad, could it? He couldn’t really be dying—this wasn’t one of his books. He had a daughter to go home to. Alexis needed him. Opening night of the school production she’d been working so hard on was this weekend, and he promised her he wouldn’t miss it.

No, of course he wouldn’t. He would be fine. Everything would work out. He was in good hands. The best hands.

But it was getting harder to breathe.

Rick tried to speak, but couldn’t. He tried to say Kate’s name, reassure her that everything was going to be fine, and would she please just stop _looking_ at him like that, but the words couldn’t seem to find their way to fruition. There was only burning pain and a tingling numbness rolling over his skin. His chest felt as though it was being crushed by an insistent weight bearing down on him that he couldn't shake, couldn't fight, couldn't even resist, and oh god, he couldn’t _breathe_.

He’d always heard that drowning was one of the most peaceful ways to die, but he saw now what complete bullshit that was. Blood was pooling inside of him, Rick could feel it filling him up more and more until he was sure he was going to explode. He could taste it in the back of his throat, coating his tongue.

Rick coughed, then couldn’t stop. Instead of the anticipated rush of fresh air filling his body, there was only more blood. The pain was swiftly giving way to the numbness, which was so much better, and _so_ much worse.

Kate’s lips pressed lightly against his forehead as she cupped his jaw with one hand and slid the other hand into his own. Rick remembered a time when he’d done that to her, and they’d both been too cold to feel it. He wondered if she remembered, too. That same chill seemed to cross over from his memory and burrow deeply into his bones.

Rick shivered.

She was talking to him, saying _don’t_ , and _please_ , and _stay_. He loved the sound of his name on her lips. He always had.

For a moment Rick thought he heard her whisper to him that she loved him, like he’d imagined, but her voice was soft and wavering, and his heart was thrumming so loudly he couldn’t be sure. Rick chose to believe it anyway, tightening his hand around hers.

Exhaustion was creeping in on him, wrapping thickly around his thoughts and pulling him down, and down, and down...  



End file.
